Time
by xxXshaDOWsLASHERXxx
Summary: (Jeff the Killer X Reader.) When Rebecca is visited one night by none other than Jeff the Killer himself, she brushes it off as sleep paralysis. But the next day when he terrorizes her and her fellow movie-goers, Rebecca realizes the spider web of trouble she's gotten herself into. Now, with Jeff locked up in a mental asylum and in danger of being "put down",(Full summary in story)


**When Rebecca is visited one night by none other than Jeff the Killer himself, she brushes it off as sleep paralysis. But the next day when he terrorizes her and her fellow movie-goers, Rebecca realizes the spider web of trouble she's gotten herself into. Now, with Jeff locked up in a mental asylum and in danger of being "put down", Rebecca must set aside her fear and help change the man who tried to kill her.**

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**Good morrow my lovies! How's it going? Well, much to my distaste, I have decided to discontinue I Envisioned The Stars Once, It Was Awful and in it's place, I have created this beautiful masterpiece! A JEFF X READER STORY! *le gasp!* Here's how it works: **

_**You are fifteen-year-old Rebecca "Black" Kysling. You have medium-length black hair and big brown eyes, along with pale skin and a somewhat pimply complexion. You have a very delicate stature, but strong legs from playing Volleyball. You have two best friends, Kyle (a charming blonde boy with piercing blue eyes) and Alisha (a snark chick with red-hair and "innocent" green eyes). You three are huge movie fanatics, especially enjoying horror movies. Every chance you three get, you go to your local theater and watch the newest movies out there. Or the three of you go to your house and watch movies in your Dad's old VCR. You think you have a crush on Kyle, but it is not official. You talk to Alisha about this constantly, but she will just shrug and give you a knowing smile. This p***** you off greatly. **_

_**You are normally quiet and withdrawn and very protective of your friends. However, when you get angry, everything goes to h*** in a hand basket. Fortunately, you are very patient and don't get mad easily. You don't think too highly of yourself, which is the repercussion of recent bullies. You're very thoughtful, which can be your greatest enemy sometimes given that you think you can change even the worst thing into something beautiful. Which you have proven on a few occasions (I.e. Your Russian blue cat, Jerold). Generous, shy, self-conscious, and protect of everyone but yourself, you've gotten yourself into quite a mighty fine situation, haven't you? ;)**_

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It's two o'clock in the morning. The moon looks like a spotlight, full and plump and bright, and stars beaded the sky in zany patterns and shapes. The light shone brightly through the open window, illuminating the room with frosty silver laces and chasing away the shadows. Inside the closet however, a black veil infects the small space, snapping at the light and growling at the moon and stars.

This is where he waits, stiff as a statue.

He knows she should have been in bed by now. Cuddling the soft plush pillow and snoring faintly. Black hair mangled. Shifting about in the warm blankets. Eyes fluttering as she dreams.

But instead, she's curled up on the couch in her PJs, watching an old horror movie on the VCR and eating popcorn. He can hear the girl giggle at the poor-quality acting and obviously fake props. It was a Saturday tradition to watch these terrible movies with her father until eleven o'clock. Tonight, however, he had to work late and thus, the girl was free to stay up as long as she wished. Her father would be furious.

Suddenly, the high-pitched screams and shouts stop. The girl sighs and the couch creaks as she stands up. Her footsteps are heavy against the carpeted floor.

Anticipation courses through him as she reaches her bedroom door. She pushes it open with a yawn. He can see her through the crack of the closet doors now. Rather small and fragile-looking. No visible muscles, though her legs appear well-toned. Results from a sport? If so, she may have a powerful kick. No muscle tone in the arms, which was good. He could easily overpower her as long as he stayed out of range of her legs.

He'd have to keep that in mind.

Her glazed brown eyes flicker over to the window which is allowing a cool night breeze to sweep through the room. She stumbles over to the window and gently shuts and locks it with slow hands. She yawns and falls backward on her bed. The poor girl is exhausted.

_Perfect._

With her last shred of consciousness, she pulls herself under the covers and snuggles into her pillow. He allows a few moments of silence to pass to ensure she is truly asleep. Constricted eyes scour over her seemingly limp body, eager and glimmering with bloodlust. The only notion of her being alive is her soft snores that penetrate the chilly air. She's out cold.

His permanent smile widens with glee, stray drops of blood trickling down his ghostly white cheeks. A silent chortle escaped his lips as he stood himself up. The numbness in his legs were lost on him. He slipped out of the closet and stepped into the moonlight. His singed black hair greatly contrasted the almost whiteness of the room. As did the red smearing his face.

Ridged, he stood over the blissfully ignorant girl, casting an eerie black shadow over her sleeping figure. She whimpered a bit, her brows knitted together before relaxing once more. Excitement made his heart skip a beat. She looked so young, so innocent in this state, like that of a newborn baby. He'd love to see her innocent face constrict with fear.

He grabbed his knife.

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I don't exactly remember going to bed, but the next time I wake up, I automatically know something's wrong.

Probably because I'm paralyzed.

A panicky breath hitches itself in my throat. I can't breath. Fear grips my heart and squeezes with all its might. I want to scream, but something's working against me. My vocal chords feel as though they were tore out and thrown far, far away.

I open my eyes.

Oh, God..

No..

No, this can't be happening...

His black rimmed eyes, tiny pupils piercing right through my brown ones. Staring straight into my soul. His crooked grin bares down at me, dripping with blood and splattering on my face. It appears as though it was carved into his face. I cringe. Blood smears his pale white face and I idly wonder if it's his. But right now, I should be worrying about mine.

I try to scream, but he has his hand over my mouth. My sharp cries come out muffled, useless. No one can hear me. I'm completely at his mercy.

Tears sprout in my eyes. W-what is he going to do to me? Hurt me? Kidnap me? Rape me? Oh, God... Please...

I whimper and turn my face away from him, desperately trying to escape the man straddling me. A chuckle emanated from deep in his chest, one only a mad man could conjure up. It sent shivers up my spine. His spare hand reaches into his hoodie pocket and draws out a keen something that makes me freeze. He puts it to my neck. The raver-edged knife, stained with crimson, glowed silver in the moonlight. The crystalline blade winked up at me and reflected my horror stricken face. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling fat tears roll down my cheeks. I knew what he was going to do to me. And that terrified me more than anything.

"Shhhhh... Don't cry..."

His voice seethed with a wicked giddiness that made my heart stop. A sob escaped my lips as his knife traced my features forcefully, but not yet pricking the skin. Rich fear surged through my body, making me shake uncontrollably.

"It won't hurt... Just," The blade arched over his head and pointed to my heart. A cackle erupted from him, breathy and shrill. My eyes widened in horror and I began to struggle under his weight. "Go. TO. _SLEEP."_

At that moment, the world only consisted of him, the knife, and me. He brought the knife down and my muffled screams vanished in the man's horrible laughter. My life flashed before my eyes. Every detail, every fact, exactly precise and forward. Every memory was as pristine as freshly fallen snow. I remembered and experienced every heartache, every joyful moment in my life. The things I regretted and the things I didn't. The people I forgave and the others I forgot. The places I had gone and the places I dreamt of visiting. Every forgotten goal and every remembered failure. Every sin and virtue.

I remembered everything.

And it was horrifying.

I watched with glazed eyes as the knife dove down towards my chest in slow motion, so terrified that I was surprisingly calm. I couldn't hear his laughter anymore. Just a silent ringing in my ears. I glanced up. Moonlight reflected off the silver blade danced across the ceiling. They winked at me and played with one another without a care in the world. They looked like tiny stars dappled across my ceiling. A serene sensation washed over me, as if my body were submitting to my forthcoming fate. My fear was replaced with a hollow numbness. I flexed my tense fingers and felt them relax immediately along with my whole body. Yes, this was just fine. I shut my eyes and allowed myself to go. And I patiently waited for the pain.

To which never came.

My eyes cracked open a bit. The man, his mangled black hair curtaining his face, sat atop me motionlessly. The knife perched right above my chest. My heart lurched with shock. The man seemed to be listening for something. I began listening too.

The wind howled outside, having picked up more speed, and battered the side of the house. The furnace kicked on and began heating up the house. The tick of my clock in my room. The pitter-patter of cat paws on the tiled kitchen floor. And...

A faint sound of the porch door opening and a car being locked. A knowing smile crossed my face.

My father had finally returned home.

I heard the front door being unlocked and I felt the man jerk. The action allowed me to move my left leg. With adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I swiftly brought my leg up and kneed him in the shoulder. He gasped and, much to his dismay, shifted again. This released my left arm. I took the chance to knock him off by smacking him in the skull with as much force as I could manage. He promptly fell off the bed with a THUMP!

I heard my father's voice greeting my cat.

The man was still picking himself off the floor. My heart pounding and the blood pumping in my ears, I took a big gulp of breath and I screamed. As loud and as long as I could. The sound echoed through the entire house and rang in my ears.

"Rebecca?!"

My father burst through my bedroom door and practically flung himself at me. By this time, I was sobbing and shaking again.

"Rebecca, what's wrong?" My father took my hands and gave them a comforting squeeze.

I tried to gather myself.

"I... T-there was this ma-man and h-he was in my room," My body racked with sobs. "He t-tried to kill me, Dad! He was going to k-kill me!"

I threw myself at my father and cried into his vest. He automatically embraced me and whispered soothing things into my ear. His fingers ran through my tousled hair. I continued to cry for a while longer before my tears couldn't fall anymore. Sniffling, I glanced up at my father who was studying the room thoughtfully.

"You... You don't believe me, do you?"

He looked down at me.

"Rebecca, it was only a night terror. There is nothing here that can hurt you. Maybe it's from watching too many horror movies and pulling the all-nighters while I'm at work. Just relax and go back to bed, sweetie," he kissed my forehead. "Goodnight, love you."

I sighed.

"Love you too..."

He gave me a comforting smile then left without another word, closing the door behind him. I sat crossed-legged on my bed for a while, contemplating over the last thirty minutes. A night terror? A man with a carved in smile attempting homicide is only a night terror, huh? Well, it did make sense... I mean, people that look like that don't exist. Except Jeff the Killer, but he isn't real. Maybe I was reading too many Creepypastas and (as my father had said) watching too many horror movies too late at night. As a result, my overtired mind was creating my own horror story guest starring famous killer, Jeffrey Woods.

And as I continue analyzing the recent memory, I actually convince myself it was, not a night terror, but only sleep paralysis. The moment I woke up, I was only experiencing aftereffects from REM sleep. That's how dreams work, right? Oh well, I'm no oneirologist. I don't know about this stuff.

"Only sleep paralysis." I feel better saying it out loud.

Satisfied with myself for figuring out my dream, I prepare myself for bed. Brush my teeth. Comb my hair. Relieve myself. Then, I head back into my bedroom.

Before I go to bed though, I shut my window.

* * *

Sleep paralysis, huh? He grimaced, shifting uncomfortably beneath the girl's window.

She's just another victim. But she doesn't believe. That's what makes her so different. She thinks he's just a dream conjured up from "staying up too late." Something that'll vanish in due time. The girl doesn't know just how wrong she is. A dream is just surreal images bunched up together and served to the dreamer on a plate of imagination. It's obliviously not real. And when he looked into those girl's big brown eyes, he knew she knew it wasn't a dream. That it was horrifyingly real. That he was horrifyingly real.

It offended him that she would be naïve enough to think otherwise.

He shifted again, this time though, with rage.

The girl was lucky this night. But her Daddy won't always be there to save her. And that's when he'll strike. He'll show her just how real he is.

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**S*** just got serious. O.o See ya in the next chapter! Please review! (I'm desperate! :D)**


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